On the advice that at this point in my life any motion is good motion – any change would be good for me - I am taking a risk. Chuck called from the antique mall to offer me another booth – his third and final offer. It is in a great location near the front of the mall. So, prorated for the short month, I now have a storefront at Treasure Isle’s Antique Mall.

I signed my first month-to-month contact this a.m. and will be stocking it with my un-displayed Kitsch. I am also considering an Ebay version of the store to experiment with which is more effective. When (and if) I get it up and running I’ll link to it here so you can get a good look at the junk that’s been chasing me.

Here’s the thing. There’s a river in Caracas Venezuela that my father saw when he visited back in the eighties. It flows higher in the center than at the edges. A wide expanse of water narrows and then sharply turns as it comes up against an underground formation of granite that actually reverses the flow; this combination of forces and stasis seem to bend the laws of physics and curve the surface of the water – with nowhere else left to go, the river gets concave.

I need to reverse the flow of material into my life, quit being the whirlpool at the edge that catches debris, and by reversing the flow perhaps I too can seemingly bend the laws of physics. So, to murder this metaphor, my booth at the antique mall is like that underground rock, we’re going to shoot the broad river of my collectible crap at it, into the narrow confines of a six by eight stall, and see if we can’t get some physics defying results where it turns - flows past the register and out into the world. They have a no returns policy so once it goes, it's gone.

In other news - sadly, the bus is an albatross and will be going in the Nemo-Trader to be sold for so much steel scrap. The wiring system is fucked, critter consumed. The bus also bit me when I was putting the new battery in, part of the housing hooked the ring finger on my right hand carving a spiral gouge from where the finger meets the back of the hand to just under the first knuckle on the opposite side.

Sunday-with-the-bus could be summarized as blood and mud as I also got my van stuck at the bottom of Tom’s hill and had to use creative means to become unstuck – we built a plywood ramp. Creative means to get unstuck - sound familiar?

I was cleaning out the basement last week and got bit by a brown recluse so my right forearm is all bandages and triple antibiotics. No broken eggs – no breakfast I guess. Anyway – with Mitchell’s couch and bed out of the basement for University City large item clean up(and chewed up by an industrial wood chipper last Wednesday), the bus in the paper, and the clutter at an antique mall perhaps this series of material albatrosses can be properly disposed of and I can get more obsessed with my future than with my past.